PARKER CENTER WAS DESERTED when they arrived. Though several investigative units operated from the headquarters building, it was primarily filled each day with command staff and support services. It didn’t come alive until after sunup. In the elevator Bosch and Rider split up, Bosch going directly to the Robbery-Homicide Division on the third floor to relieve Kehoe and Bradshaw, while Rider made a stop by the Open-Unsolved office to pick up the file she had put together earlier on William Burkhart.

“See you in a few,” she said to Bosch as he stepped off. “I hope Kehoe and Bradshaw made some coffee.”

Bosch turned the corner out of the elevator alcove and headed down the hallway to the double doors of RHD. A voice from behind stopped him.

“What did I tell you about retreads?”

Bosch turned. It was Irving, coming from the opposite hallway. There was nothing down that way but computer services. Bosch guessed that he had been waiting in the hallway. He tried not to show surprise that Irving apparently already knew about what had happened on the freeway.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I wanted to get an early start. It’s going to be a big day.”

“Is that right?”

“That’s right. And I’ll give you fair warning. In the morning the media will be alerted to this middle-of-the-night fuckup of yours. The reporters will be told how you used this man Mackey as bait, only to let him be killed in a most horrible way. They will ask questions about how a retired detective could have been allowed back into the department to do this. But don’t worry. These questions will most likely be addressed to the chief of police who set it all in motion.”

Bosch laughed and shook his head, acting as though he didn’t feel the threat.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“I will also be urging the commander of the Internal Affairs Division to open an investigation into how you conducted this investigation, Detective Bosch. I wouldn’t get too used to being back.”

Bosch took a step toward Irving, hoping to turn some of the threat back at him.

“Good, Chief, you do that. I hope you also prepare the commander for what I will be telling his investigators as well as the reporters about your own culpability in all of this.”

There was a long pause before Irving bit.

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“This man you’re so worried about being used as bait was cut loose by you seventeen years ago, Chief. Cut loose so you could make your deal with Richard Ross. Mackey should’ve been in jail. Instead he used the gun from one of his little burglaries to kill an innocent sixteen-year-old girl.”

Bosch waited but Irving didn’t say anything.

“That’s right,” Bosch said. “I might have Roland Mackey’s blood on my hands but you’ve got Rebecca Verloren’s on yours. You want to go to the media and IAD with it? Fine, take your best shot and we’ll see how it all comes out.”

A pinched look formed in Irving ’s eyes. He took a step toward Bosch until their faces were only inches apart.

“You are wrong, Bosch. All of those kids back then, they were cleared of involvement in Verloren.”

“Yeah, how? Who cleared them? Green and Garcia sure didn’t. They were pushed away from them by you. Just like the girl’s father. You and one of your dogs scared him away from it, too.”

Bosch pointed a finger at his chest.

“You let murderers walk so you could keep your little deal intact.”

An urgency entered Irving ’s voice when he responded.

“You are completely wrong on this,” he said. “Do you really think that we would let murderers walk?”

Bosch shook his head, stepped back and almost laughed.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Listen to me, Bosch. We checked alibis on every last one of those boys. They were all clean. For some of them, we were the alibi because we were still watching them. But we made sure every member of that group was clean on this, then we told Green and Garcia to back off. The father was told, too, but he wouldn’t stand down.”

“So you pushed him down, right, Chief? Pushed him into a hole.”

“Things had to be done. The city was very tense back then. We couldn’t have her father running around saying things that weren’t true.”

“Don’t give me that good-of-the-community bullshit, Chief. You had your deal, that’s all you cared about. You had Ross and IAD in your pocket and you wanted to keep it that way. Only you were dead wrong. The DNA proves it. Mackey was good for Verloren and your investigation was for shit.”

“No, wait just a minute. It only proves one thing. That he had the gun. I read the story you planted in the paper today, too. The DNA connects him to the gun, not to the murder.”

Bosch waved him off. He knew there was no sense going back and forth with Irving. His only hope was that his own threat to go to the media and IAD would neutralize Irving ’s threat. He believed they were at a stalemate.

“Who checked the alibis?” he asked calmly.

Irving didn’t answer.

“Let me guess. McClellan. He’s got his prints all over this.”

Again Irving didn’t answer. It was like he had drifted off into the memory of seventeen years before.

“Chief, I want you to call your dog. I know he still works for you. Tell him I want to know about the alibis. I want details. I want reports. I want everything he’s got by seven a.m. today or that’s it. We do what we have to do and we see where the chips fall.”

Bosch was about to turn away when Irving finally spoke.

“There are no alibi reports,” he said. “There never would have been any.”

Bosch heard the elevator open and Rider soon rounded the corner, carrying a file. She stopped dead when she saw the confrontation. She said nothing.

“No reports?” Bosch said to Irving. “Then you better hope he’s got a good memory. Good night, Chief.”

Bosch turned and started down the hall. Rider hurried to catch up to him. She looked back over her shoulder to make sure Irving was not following. After they turned in through the double doors to RHD, she spoke.

“Are we in trouble, Harry? Is he going to turn this against the man up on six?”

Bosch looked at her. The mix of dread and fear on her face told him how important his answer was going to be.

“Not if I can help it,” he told her.

WILLIAM BURKHART and Belinda Messier were being held in separate interview rooms. Bosch and Rider decided to take Messier first so that Burkhart would have to sit and wait and wonder. It would also give them time to let Marcia and Jackson get the warrant and get into the house on Mariano. What they found might be helpful during the interview with Burkhart.

Belinda Messier had come up in the investigation before. The number on the cell phone Mackey carried around was registered to her. In the briefing Kehoe and Bradshaw had given Bosch and Rider upon their arrival she was described as Burkhart’s girlfriend. She had volunteered as much when the RHD detectives had taken both of them into custody. She told them little else after that.

Belinda Messier was a petite woman with mousy blonde hair that framed her face. Her look belied the hard case she turned out to be. She asked to see an attorney the moment Rider and Bosch entered the room.

“Why do you want to see an attorney?” Bosch asked. “Do you think you are under arrest?”

“Are you telling me I can leave?”

She stood up.

“Sit down,” Bosch said. “Roland Mackey was killed tonight and you could be in danger, too. You’re in protective custody. That means you’re not getting out of here until we get some things straight.”

“I don’t know anything about it. I was with Billy all night until you people showed up.”

Over the next forty-five minutes Messier gave up information only grudgingly. She explained that she knew Mackey through Burkhart and that she agreed to apply for cell phone service and turn the phone over to Mackey because he didn’t have a viable credit report. She told the detectives that Burkhart did not work and lived off a damages award he had received after a car accident two years before. He bought the house on Mariano Street with the payout and charged Mackey rent. Messier said she didn’t live in the house but spent many nights there visiting Burkhart. When asked about Burkhart and Mackey’s past ties to white power groups, she feigned surprise. When asked about the tiny swastika tattooed on the webbing between her right thumb and forefinger, she said she thought it was a Navajo good luck symbol.